Jola
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- Nov 8, 2025
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Just a modest little tickling story of mine. This story basically happened as described. However, there is a little bit of imagination involved in some parts.
I never would have guessed that the topic of tickling would haunt me for four decades. I'm in my forties now and never thought I could still be so extremely ticklish at this age. But that's exactly what Mark and Erik proved to me. They tickled me like I hadn't been tickled in a long time. I rolled around on the floor, screaming and laughing like a little girl. But I also never thought it would still be fun.
I have been working in this office, which is the publishing house's graphics and design department, for several years. There are three of us sharing this room. My desk is near the wall next to the window. Mark sits across from me. He is a few years older than me and is a rather quiet and calm guy. Next to me is Erik, with whom I share more than just work. We also have a very good relationship outside of work. He is my age, tall and muscular, and has a charming personality. His brown eyes and smile awaken long-hidden feelings in me.
The story took place two years ago, sometime in the summer. I was sitting in front of the computer on a day when there wasn't much to work.
I was wearing short jeans that came down to just above my knees and, as always, I was barefoot. Over that, I had a tank top that ended above my belly button.
My body was a little tense from sitting for so long. I moved my shoulders a little. Then I closed my eyes and stretched my arms up to stretch my muscles. Of course, this caused my top to slide up. Suddenly, I felt a crawling sensation on my stomach. Startled, I pulled my arms down and let out a squeal.
“Sorry,” said Erik. “But your stomach was so inviting next to my fingers.”
Now Mark spoke up too.
“What was that about? I wasn't looking,” he said.
“I'll show you again,” said Erik, grabbing my wrist. Before I could protest, he tickled my stomach again, this time a little harder. I immediately started screaming.
“Sto-ho-hoop,” I yelled, sliding back and forth on my chair. I tried to push his arm away with my free hand, but I couldn't. He kept tickling me. “No-ho-oh,” I giggled, my legs moving frantically but pointlessly. I sucked in my stomach, but it didn't help much.
Then Mark stood up and said, “Well, I'll have to take a closer look at that.”
“No, you don't,” I protested. But he was already standing behind me.
Erik stopped tickling me for a moment. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. But then Mark grabbed my wrists and said to Erik, “Can you do that again?” and pulled my arms up a little.
“Sure thing,” he said, and started tickling my stomach with both hands. “Stop tickling me right now!” I screamed. I desperately tried to pull my arms down, but to no avail. Now Erik was in his element. His fingers danced quickly across my stomach, sliding a little under my top and touching my rib cage. I screamed, shrieked, and laughed. Mark struggled to hold my arms down, even though I was moving them frantically back and forth. I twisted my upper body in all directions to escape the attacks. As a result, the chair slipped out from under me and I landed gently but firmly on the floor, while Mark still held my arms.
“Very good, it's more comfortable on the floor,” said Erik, pressing my upper body down. I was now lying on my back, Mark was holding my arms above my head, and Erik continued the tickling torture. He pushed my top up a little higher and began to run his fingers over my stomach again. Faster and faster and harder and harder.
“Erik, stop it, stooop it.” My laughter became more intense and hysterical, my body moving frantically back and forth.
“No-ho-ho,” I croaked repeatedly, “Stop, stop,” even though I wasn't sure anymore if I wanted to stop. I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings I hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling between being helpless and letting go, a feeling between fighting and surrendering, a feeling between torment and pleasure. It was this tickling sensation that I hated and loved at the same time. And the fact that it was Erik, of all people, who made me feel these feelings again, made it even more exciting.
I felt Erik's fingers all over my twitching skin. They caressed my stomach and sides, pushed between my ribs and occasionally into my navel. My whole body trembled and moved. My legs kicked into the air. My nerves were stretched to the limit. When I felt his fingers in my armpits, I was done for.
“No, that's too much,” I cried. “Not my Aarrr...” Loud laughter burst from my lungs as I tried in vain to press my arms against my body.
After what felt like an eternity, I was able to free my arms from Mark's grip. I pushed the surprised Erik aside and tried to sit up.
“You're not going to run away, are you?” said Erik, and they both pushed me back down to the ground. This time I was lying on my stomach, and I already had a feeling what was about to happen.
They both grabbed a leg, pinned it down, and rubbed up and down the soles of my bare feet. The next torture began. I pulled violently at my legs, my body writhing on the floor. My arms were free, but I couldn't do much with them except flail wildly.
Then I gave up and just lay there. I let the tingling on the soles of my feet wash over me and just laughed to myself.
At some point, they stopped tickling me. I lay on the floor for a while, exhausted and out of breath. My thoughts were spinning. Erik's nasty tickle attack had triggered something in me in the last few minutes that I hadn't experienced in a long time.
I got up and sat down on my chair. I could still feel the tingling sensation all over my body. I brushed my tousled hair from my forehead and the last tears of laughter from my eyes.
Mark apologized to me for the nasty attack. My breathing slowly calmed down. I smiled at him and said, “It's okay.”
Erik put his arm around my shoulder. “I hope it wasn't too bad for you?” No, I thought, on the contrary. But I didn't say anything.
“I'm sorry,” he said, looking deep into my eyes with his irresistible smile. “But I just like ticklish women, like you, for example.”
I stood up, put my arms around his neck, and whispered, “And I like men who like ticklish women. Like you, for example.”
Note: I wrote the story in German and then translated it into English online.
I never would have guessed that the topic of tickling would haunt me for four decades. I'm in my forties now and never thought I could still be so extremely ticklish at this age. But that's exactly what Mark and Erik proved to me. They tickled me like I hadn't been tickled in a long time. I rolled around on the floor, screaming and laughing like a little girl. But I also never thought it would still be fun.
I have been working in this office, which is the publishing house's graphics and design department, for several years. There are three of us sharing this room. My desk is near the wall next to the window. Mark sits across from me. He is a few years older than me and is a rather quiet and calm guy. Next to me is Erik, with whom I share more than just work. We also have a very good relationship outside of work. He is my age, tall and muscular, and has a charming personality. His brown eyes and smile awaken long-hidden feelings in me.
The story took place two years ago, sometime in the summer. I was sitting in front of the computer on a day when there wasn't much to work.
I was wearing short jeans that came down to just above my knees and, as always, I was barefoot. Over that, I had a tank top that ended above my belly button.
My body was a little tense from sitting for so long. I moved my shoulders a little. Then I closed my eyes and stretched my arms up to stretch my muscles. Of course, this caused my top to slide up. Suddenly, I felt a crawling sensation on my stomach. Startled, I pulled my arms down and let out a squeal.
“Sorry,” said Erik. “But your stomach was so inviting next to my fingers.”
Now Mark spoke up too.
“What was that about? I wasn't looking,” he said.
“I'll show you again,” said Erik, grabbing my wrist. Before I could protest, he tickled my stomach again, this time a little harder. I immediately started screaming.
“Sto-ho-hoop,” I yelled, sliding back and forth on my chair. I tried to push his arm away with my free hand, but I couldn't. He kept tickling me. “No-ho-oh,” I giggled, my legs moving frantically but pointlessly. I sucked in my stomach, but it didn't help much.
Then Mark stood up and said, “Well, I'll have to take a closer look at that.”
“No, you don't,” I protested. But he was already standing behind me.
Erik stopped tickling me for a moment. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. But then Mark grabbed my wrists and said to Erik, “Can you do that again?” and pulled my arms up a little.
“Sure thing,” he said, and started tickling my stomach with both hands. “Stop tickling me right now!” I screamed. I desperately tried to pull my arms down, but to no avail. Now Erik was in his element. His fingers danced quickly across my stomach, sliding a little under my top and touching my rib cage. I screamed, shrieked, and laughed. Mark struggled to hold my arms down, even though I was moving them frantically back and forth. I twisted my upper body in all directions to escape the attacks. As a result, the chair slipped out from under me and I landed gently but firmly on the floor, while Mark still held my arms.
“Very good, it's more comfortable on the floor,” said Erik, pressing my upper body down. I was now lying on my back, Mark was holding my arms above my head, and Erik continued the tickling torture. He pushed my top up a little higher and began to run his fingers over my stomach again. Faster and faster and harder and harder.
“Erik, stop it, stooop it.” My laughter became more intense and hysterical, my body moving frantically back and forth.
“No-ho-ho,” I croaked repeatedly, “Stop, stop,” even though I wasn't sure anymore if I wanted to stop. I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings I hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling between being helpless and letting go, a feeling between fighting and surrendering, a feeling between torment and pleasure. It was this tickling sensation that I hated and loved at the same time. And the fact that it was Erik, of all people, who made me feel these feelings again, made it even more exciting.
I felt Erik's fingers all over my twitching skin. They caressed my stomach and sides, pushed between my ribs and occasionally into my navel. My whole body trembled and moved. My legs kicked into the air. My nerves were stretched to the limit. When I felt his fingers in my armpits, I was done for.
“No, that's too much,” I cried. “Not my Aarrr...” Loud laughter burst from my lungs as I tried in vain to press my arms against my body.
After what felt like an eternity, I was able to free my arms from Mark's grip. I pushed the surprised Erik aside and tried to sit up.
“You're not going to run away, are you?” said Erik, and they both pushed me back down to the ground. This time I was lying on my stomach, and I already had a feeling what was about to happen.
They both grabbed a leg, pinned it down, and rubbed up and down the soles of my bare feet. The next torture began. I pulled violently at my legs, my body writhing on the floor. My arms were free, but I couldn't do much with them except flail wildly.
Then I gave up and just lay there. I let the tingling on the soles of my feet wash over me and just laughed to myself.
At some point, they stopped tickling me. I lay on the floor for a while, exhausted and out of breath. My thoughts were spinning. Erik's nasty tickle attack had triggered something in me in the last few minutes that I hadn't experienced in a long time.
I got up and sat down on my chair. I could still feel the tingling sensation all over my body. I brushed my tousled hair from my forehead and the last tears of laughter from my eyes.
Mark apologized to me for the nasty attack. My breathing slowly calmed down. I smiled at him and said, “It's okay.”
Erik put his arm around my shoulder. “I hope it wasn't too bad for you?” No, I thought, on the contrary. But I didn't say anything.
“I'm sorry,” he said, looking deep into my eyes with his irresistible smile. “But I just like ticklish women, like you, for example.”
I stood up, put my arms around his neck, and whispered, “And I like men who like ticklish women. Like you, for example.”
Note: I wrote the story in German and then translated it into English online.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
